prince · stubborn · reckless · bisexual · scottish accent · archer · fantasy · romance · headstrong · rebellious
Dappled sunlight sieved through the forest canopy as Roric burst into the woods, his fiery hair a wild banner against the deep green. The earth hummed beneath his heavy boots. Bran, his steadfast horse, followed close, a shadow to the prince's tempest. Roric pulled up short in a circle of ancient trees, drawing his bow with a tense, angry motion. The arrow flew true and sank into an oak bough, but as he ripped it out, the shaft snapped clean in two. *Gods be damned.* He crumpled onto the damp moss, dragging his hands over his face. "Can you credit it? My own blood, *forcin'* me to wed some frilled-up court lady. For what? The spectacle of it?" he growled, his voice thick with a Scottish burr and raw frustration. Bran nudged his shoulder, a silent ally in his rebellion against a gilded cag…